“Now?” he asked softly, turning his hand beneath hers to capture her fingers and draw them to his lips. “On a business trip?”
“Now,” she said, “on our lunch break.”
By the time they arrived back in Sydney Kimberley knew she was ninety-nine percent back in love with him. She fell the final one percent during the board meeting held on the following day. It wasn’t only how he introduced her, not as Howard’s daughter but by acknowledging her standing in the industry and her creative vision, which had spawned Blackstone Jewellery ten years earlier. It wasn’t just the standing ovation he led when the board formally accepted her as the new interim director. It wasn’t even his decisive leadership of the meeting, or the overwhelming vote of confidence that led to his appointment as interim Chairman and CEO of the company.
No, the moment when she allowed herself to fall that final percent came in a singular second after the announcement of Howard’s successor was made, when he sought her eyes as if her approval was all that mattered. And in that instant of connection and clarity, she saw the man he’d become and it didn’t matter where he’d come from or what had brought him to this point.
In all his facets he was the perfect cut for her, and the knowledge thrilled her and soothed her and scared her in equal measures.
As Ric anticipated, the remains of the crash victims were recovered from the wreckage while he and Kim were returning from Janderra. The exhaustive identification process had commenced and despite the dark pall cast over proceedings by Howard’s as-yet-unresolved fate, the meeting ended on an optimistic note. Rick had wanted to take Kim out for a celebratory dinner…after she’d packed her things and moved into his house.
To his chagrin she’d agreed to neither.
“Let’s not rush into anything this time,” she’d said. “And wearing my PR hat, I would suggest that any celebration of your appointment is done in private.”
“That’s not what I want to celebrate,” he’d pointed out. “But since I can’t toast your move into my home, how about we enjoy a quiet dinner from Roberto’s?”
She’d agreed. They’d eaten. And since she now sat on his sofa, her feet curled up beneath her and a second glass of Dom Pérignon in her hand, Ric couldn’t complain about the outcome.
“Do you think Ryan will stay on?” she asked.
Halfway to sitting down beside her, Ric paused. “Has he mentioned leaving?”
“No, nothing like that. But he can’t be happy with your appointment.”
“Which is interim,” he reminded her. “If he doesn’t think I’m the right choice, then he can lobby for change.”
“Do you think? The other directors made it clear that they believe Howard handpicked you as his successor. It must have been tough for Ryan to hear that his own father preferred another man for the job he coveted.”
“That’s not why Howard or the directors chose me. Your brother’s still young. I have a solid eighteen-year history with Blackstone’s. I started in the mines—I’ve worked across the divisions, from marketing to retail to export. Today’s vote was an issue of experience and seniority, not preference.”
“But is that the way Ryan will see it?” she asked, her voice soft with empathy. “I know how he feels. I’ve been in that position.”
“Howard chose me back then for the same reason, Kim.”
“Seniority and experience. I know.” Her shrug was casual, belying the whirl of emotion in her eyes. “But that didn’t help soften the blow.” With a shuddery sigh, she leaned her head against the back of the sofa to stare up at the ceiling. “I wonder what he thought of today’s events. If he’s sitting there with a smug look on his face because you’re in charge and I’m back here as he always intended.”
The pensive edge to her voice as she conjured up that spirit of their past loosened a great knot of emotion in Ric’s gut. He watched her sitting there beside him, with the mahogany gleam of her hair and the smooth tan of her bare arms and the sweet curve of her hip…Hell, she was so damn beautiful it hurt.
“I’m pretty sure he would approve of us.”
Slowly she turned her gaze on him. “Ironic, isn’t it? In life he tore us apart, but his death has brought us back together.”
“He won’t come between us again,” Ric promised. “Not Howard or Blackstone’s.”
For a long moment his resolute words hung in the night between them, a solid vow, a promise he would keep. Kim moistened her lips, her gaze shadowed as she dipped her head to take a sip of her champagne. “Is that all that was wrong between us back then?”
“We were young. What we had—” he didn’t know how to describe it, what words would encapsulate that potent passion “—hit us quick, before we’d worked out what we wanted.”
“I was young,” she corrected in a rueful tone. “You always gave the impression that you knew exactly what you wanted.”
“I knew I wanted you. The first time I saw you. I knew.”
“Despite the hard time I gave you?”
“Despite Ryan’s disapproval and the threat of career suicide.” He waited a beat, expression serious before continuing. “You accused me of getting everything I wanted when I married you.”
“And did you?”
“Yes.” The shock of that admission registered in her eyes and when she would have looked away Ric leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. “I got the advancement, the prestige, the chance to prove myself. And while I wasn’t ever a substitute for your brother, I did get to feel like I was part of a family. Sonya has that knack.”
A hint of disquiet shimmered in the depths of her eyes. “That mattered?”
“Family is everything. Yes, it mattered. It all mattered, until you were gone.”
For a long moment she sat in silence, a faint tremor of emotion in her eyes and in the skin beneath his fingers. Then she murmured, “And now I’m back.”
“Then let me know you are. Move in with me. Come out to dinner, have your photo taken on my arm. Let me know I’m not just an impulse or a distraction. Let me know, and let the world know that you’re back and you’re mine.”
Let’s not rush, Kimberley said in careful answer to that heart-stoppingly ardent declaration, but four hours, three glasses of Dom and two orgasms later she had agreed to move into Perrini’s house. And to accompany him to a formal Sydney Festival event the following Tuesday night, not only as a representative of Blackstone’s, but as a date.
And to start calling him by his given name.
Ric. Ric. Ric. She practiced in time with the tap of her heels as she hurried through the Pitt Street Mall en route from the designer floor of David Jones’ city store to Martin Place. Ric. Ric. Ric.
The repetitive cadence triggered memories of the night before, when he’d held her on the edge of release, their fingers joined high above her head while he stared into her eyes and insisted she call him Ric.
“Only when I come?” she’d asked.
“That’ll do nicely for a start.”
The mere memory coloured her skin as she shouldered through the revolving door of the Blackstone’s store, her hands filled with shopping bags and the hangered gown she’d chosen for the reception. Only five minutes late. Which, given the way she’d been chasing her tail all morning, was something of a miracle.
She’d called Jessica Cotter yesterday to make the appointment, right after Perrini—Ric—had reassured her that attending the reception was a good idea.
“A Blackstone presence won’t be expected,” she’d argued. “We’re in mourning.”
“Not expected,” he’d countered, “which makes it a sound promotional ploy. The rags are buzzing with Marise and your father. Let’s give them something else to talk about.”
Resigned to becoming society-column fodder, Kimberley decided to make the best of it. She would wear Blackstone jewellery and a designer gown to set it off. Hence her shopping expedition and her appointment with Jessica, who met her at the top of the stairs. Her curious eyes took
in Kimberley’s plastic-protected burden. “You brought the gown with you? Perfect.”
“I’ve come straight from DJ’s,” Kim admitted. “Where I came perilously close to calling you and begging for your help in deciding.”
“You should have,” Jessica said with a warm smile. “I would have been happy to help.”
“Oh, you did. When I was here last week, you described a gown—strapless, white or silver.” While she spoke, Kimberley unzipped the bag to reveal her choice. “And here it is.”
“The dress looks divine,” Jessica said softly. “This reception you’re going to…is it the one at Warralong House?”
“I’m not sure. It’s for one of the highlight acts at the Sydney Festival—the dance company performing at the Opera House.”
“That’s the one.”
There was something in the younger woman’s voice—a note that sounded almost wistful to Kimberley’s ears. “If you would like to go,” she said with a smile, “you can have my ticket. I’m really not a fan of these affairs.”
“I don’t think my presence would be appreciated, even if this gorgeous dress fit me. Now, let’s see what we can find for you. Are you looking for something subtle? Classic? Sophisticated?”
“Something that photographs well,” Kim said, putting aside her curiosity about Jessica for a moment. “That is the main thing. And since I’m representing Blackstone’s, it definitely has to be diamonds.”
Eleven
E ven though coloured stones—especially the rare Janderra pinks—were the Blackstone trademark, Jessica put her in white diamonds.
“Better for my colouring,” she told Ric as he took his sweet time about fastening the fabulous multistrand necklace. “What do you think? Enough bling for a Blackstone?”
His fingers lingered on her throat, a deliciously warm contrast to the cool weight of the stones against her skin, but he didn’t answer right away. Seated at the dresser applying a final brush of bronze to her cheekbones, Kimberley looked up and caught his gaze in the dresser mirror. Then he let his eyes do the talking with a long, lazy sweep over her near-backless gown, her bare arms and shoulders, the hint of cleavage above the silvery sheen of her fitted bodice.
“You don’t need the bling, Kim.” Leaning forward, he covered the necklace with his hands. His thumbs blocked out the fat diamonds in her ears. “See?” he whispered at her ear. “You dazzle without them.”
Wow. The impact of his inspection, his words, his breath against her skin, pooled low and hot in Kimberley’s belly. She drew in a breath that wasn’t quite steady, closed her compact and set it down on the top of the dresser. “Do you want to go to this party?”
“Not particularly.”
His voice was as casual and deliberate as the drift of his fingertips to the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.
Kimberley shivered deep inside. “We could stay home.” She leaned back against his black dinner suit and felt the erotic imprint of his arousal in every female cell. “I’ve never made love in a quarter million dollars’ worth of diamonds.”
“We will rectify that,” he promised, and his mouth replaced his hands, trailing a string of delicate kisses to her hairline. “After we’ve let the world know you’re going home with me.”
She pointed out the flaw in his logic while they drove to the glamorous Point Piper venue. It helped distract her from what she saw as an ordeal ahead. She’d never liked society soirees, and she had a feeling she would hate being studied and whispered about when she appeared on her ex-husband’s arm.
But after the first half hour and the obligatory pose for a society snapper, she found herself enjoying the evening much more than anticipated. Part of that pleasure was due to the outdoor setting, in the terraced gardens of a historic harbour-side mansion. Part was knowing she had the party’s hottest date at her side, feeling his hand at her back, catching his rescue-me glance when he’d been shanghaied by yet another predatory female. She might have felt sorry for him if he wasn’t inviting the interest, with his killer smile and smooth conversational skills.
But her biggest delight came from the knowledge she would be going home with him, and the expectancy that built with every touch and every captured glance. The pleasure bubbled away inside her, a secret smile couched in optimistic hope that this time around things might just work out.
They’d already started to wind their way back up the garden toward the house and the exits, taking their time, heightening the anticipation, when she saw her brother’s familiar tall frame. She did a double take. “I didn’t expect to see Ryan here. I wouldn’t have thought this would be his thing,” she murmured, although how would she know what Ryan’s thing was? She knew nothing about his private life. She studied the statuesque blonde at his side. “Is that his date?”
“No, that’s the wife of the one of the festival directors. I met her earlier.”
“Is he dating anyone?” she asked after a moment.
“I have no idea. That’s not information your brother would share with me,” Ric replied dryly.
But Kimberley was recalling Jessica’s odd reaction to tonight’s party and the vibes Ryan had given off when she mentioned Jessica’s name the day he showed her around the office complex. “You don’t think he might have something going on with Jessica Cotter?”
“An employee? Hell, no. You know his opinion on that issue.”
Ten years ago she’d known his disapproval of her and Ric’s relationship, a distaste born from Howard’s affairs with several secretaries. But that didn’t stop her wondering and besides that curiosity, she’d wanted to catch up with him ever since last week’s board meeting. To say what, she didn’t quite know, but she didn’t want that old enmity resurfacing. Her return was supposed to heal rifts, not drive a wedge in them.
“I’m going to say hello.”
“Uh-uh.” He hooked his arm around her back and pulled her snug against his side. The promise in his eyes and the heated spread of his fingers against her bare back smoked through Kimberley’s senses but she made a valiant attempt to rally.
“I won’t be a minute.”
“You can say hello to your brother tomorrow. It’s time to go home,” he said, dipping in to melt her objections with a short but devastating kiss. “I have a hankering for diamonds.”
It was just a line. As he loosened his bow tie and flipped the studs from his dinner shirt, he met Kimberley’s eyes in the mirror of her dresser and told her he only hankered for her, unadorned. Drawing her to her feet with the sensual power of his words and his voice and his cobalt gaze, he carefully, deliberately, went about unadorning her.
First, he unzipped the platinum gown and let it fall in a pool at her feet. Next, the lacy slithers of underwear, the sky-high heels, every diamond pin in her hair, and last he removed each glittering piece of jewellery until she stood naked before the full-length mirror. Then he stripped her completely bare by looking into her eyes and telling her that this was how he wanted her—just her, Kim, without a glimmer of Blackstone’s between them.
When he vowed to kiss every inch of bared skin, she felt a momentary ripple of disquiet but he chased that away with the moist touch of his lips at the base of her spine. When he turned her in his hands, one kiss following the next over her flanks and hips and belly, he noticed the scar in her belly button for the first time. Although she tensed momentarily, the velvety brush of his thumb and then the moist heat of his kiss against the tiny mark released the last vestige of self-preservation.
“Keyhole surgery,” she explained on a whisper of breath because his mouth shifted lower. “Women’s stuff…it’s okay.”
His hand stilled on her belly, enveloping her emptiness with heat and a reverent pressure, and in that moment it was okay for the first time in a very long while.
“You’ve stopped.” She stretched, a sinuous movement designed to distract and provoke. “If you do manage to kiss every inch, then I promise to reciprocate.”
Distracted and provoked, he
fulfilled his promise and so did she, and the memory of that amazing connection—when he was inside her, reminding her of what mattered and what didn’t—still steamed through her senses three days later.
“You left suddenly the other night.”
Ryan’s voice cut into her sensual memory and Kimberley turned, letting the elevator she’d been about to board go without her. The smile that was never far from her lips these past days bloomed to full effect as she greeted her brother. Not smiling, but that was Ryan, and despite his unwelcoming expression she was glad they’d finally caught up. “We were on our way home when we saw you. Did you enjoy the reception?”
“No. Going up?” He indicated the vacant lift with a nod, then followed her inside. “I didn’t expect to see you there.”
“Part of the strategy,” she said, “to demonstrate that Blackstone’s is hail and hearty and moving forward. We want to show we’re not stalled by grief or backpedaling due to the negative press.”
“And moving in with Perrini…is that a strategy for the good of the company?”
Quiet words, but their implication froze Kimberley’s smile. “No. That would be a strategy for the good of me.”
“I hope so, Kim.”
“Look,” she said tightly, reading a wealth of meaning behind those words. “I understand your grievance with Ric and I know you’re feeling raw at the moment. Perhaps this isn’t the best time for this conversation.”
“The best time would have been before you got involved with him again. I shouldn’t have let him assume control of this deal.”
The lift glided to a smooth halt at her floor, but Kimberley’s stomach kept on moving. She hit the button to hold the doors shut and looked into her brother’s eyes. Not hard, cold, hostile, as she’d expected, but churning with something that looked like self-recrimination. “What do you mean?”
“We all wanted you back here, Kim—none of us liked you working for Hammond—but Perrini always held him accountable for busting up your marriage. That gave him extra motivation.” He expelled a harsh breath, and the sound shivered like a chill of precognition all the way to the marrow of Kimberley’s bones. “That, and his need to have a Blackstone at his side at that board meeting.”
Vows & a Vengeful Groom Page 13